


You Are Mine. I Am Yours. We Are One.

by MELTcorp



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Anal Sex, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cockpit Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I never planned on writing smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Probably sleep deprivation, Sweet, Topping from the Bottom, i don't know where this came from, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MELTcorp/pseuds/MELTcorp
Summary: Din and Corin having some private time in the cockpit of the Razor Crest.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 198





	You Are Mine. I Am Yours. We Are One.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> Honestly have no idea where this came from, guys. It just started and wouldn't stop. Sorry in advanced for any spelling or grammar mistakes. It's hard re-reading something when cross-eyed. I'll probably go back later to comb through it.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this unexpected PWP! ^_^

The Razor Crest is quiet as Corin takes hold of the ladder to ascend into the cockpit above, bare feet curling slightly over each rung. No noise is made when he reaches the landing, and yet he knows that the other occupant is aware that he is there. He glides over to the man sitting at the controls, left hand reach for the bared spot at the back of the pilot’s neck, a small part of him surprised by the lack of armor. 

“Cyar'ika...” The pilot rumbles, tone affectionate as his helmeted head tilts in his direction. Corin stops at his side and continue to lightly rub at the bare skin with two fingers. “Gar nuhoyir.” 

Clicking his tongue in slight amusement, the former trooper shifts closer to his Mandalorian, hip brushing at the man’s elbow set down on the arm rest. “You know I can’t without you, love.” Ever since bunking with other stormtroopers and then sharing the same bed (or room, for the slim amount of times they stayed in a room with two beds) with Din or curling around his child, he’s never been accustomed to a lonely bed of one. 

Corin looks down at the helmet still turned toward him. They quietly stare at each other for a few short moments, Corin waiting for Din to make a decision to accommodate him or stubbornly (try to) send him back to their bunk. Eventually, he hears a sigh come from under the helmet as the Mandalorian faces the front again, using his left hand to flip some switches and press a button, a sequence that Corin is well aware will set the ship to auto-pilot as they warp through space, and bringing his right arm up to wrap around Corin’s waist, fingers sliding under his tank to settle on his heated skin. 

Feeling a shiver course through his body, he doesn’t resist the arm pulling him in front of the chair. Without hesitation, he follows through with placing his hands gently on Din’s cloth-covered shoulders in order to lean on them as he straddles his beloved’s lap, more than enough space between the Mandalorian’s thighs and the armrests. 

Shimmying to be as close as possible, Corin finally settles down, loving the feeling of Din’s capable hands squeezing at his hips, as if wanting to pull him even closer. He lets out a soft chuckle in amusement as his right hand starts plucking at the cloth of Din’s long-sleeved shirt and then he drags his index finger down to the center of his love’s muscular chest, poking it in a teasing manner. 

“What happened to always being prepared?” Corin lilts, knowing all too well that all Mandalorians, _especially_ his Mandalorian, very rarely go without armor outside of their private quarters or the bathroom. 

The hands squeeze a little tighter at his hips, sending a tingle up his spine, as the helmet tilts to the side. 

“Who says I’m not prepared?” Din whispers back in a deep, gravelly voice. 

A wave of lust courses through him as his left hand squeezes the shoulder it’s resting on. He locks eyes with the visored ones, instantly aware of the two thin pairs of sweatpants and form-fitting shirts being the only pieces of material separating them. 

He lets out a soft hum as he shifts forward to rest his forehead against the helmeted one, letting his lover know how much he’s affecting him. 

Corin figuratively pokes at him this time, smirking playfully. “Are you really, now?” 

Instead of a verbal reply, Din’s hands shift. His right holds Corin’s lower back to support him as he leans down, reaching passed Corin’s eyesight with his left hand to grab something. Awkwardly hanging on, he doesn’t have to wait long before Din settles back in the chair, left hand holding the object he retrieved. 

He blinks his eyes in surprise at the bottle of lube. 

An “Oh” escapes under his breath before Corin catches his bearings again. “You really _are_ prepared.” 

Then it dawns on him. 

“You _knew_ I’d be coming up.” Corin accuses, lightly smacking Din’s shoulder. 

Din chuckles in amusement, shoulders slightly shaking. “You’re too predictable, Cyar'ika.” 

“I am not!” The offended man scoffs in reply, resisting the urge to pout at him. 

That’s when he feels the hand that isn’t holding the lube shift down to his ass, squeezing the cheek through his pants with a strong hand. 

A gurgled moan rumbles in the back of his throat as all other thoughts escape his mind. 

At least, until he hears his supposed lover laughing at him from under his helmet, to which he replies by pulling down the collar of Din’s shirt and biting into the spot where neck and shoulder meet. 

The noises from under that helmet change from mocking laughter to encouraging groans as he continues to mark up the Mandalorian’s neck and shoulder where ever he can reach. He feels his member twitch in response to the sounds reverberating from that throat. 

Not breaking from his ministrations, Corin takes the moment to climb off Din’s lap, the hand on his ass almost stopping him before he soothingly rubs a hand up and down the solid chest in front of him in reassurance. He slides his mouth up Din’s neck, leaving wet kisses along the way, to the bottom edge of his helmet, enjoying the noises he is producing. 

With that as a distraction, Corin quickly removes his pants then pulls down Din’s pants enough that he can decide for himself if he wants to discard them or not as Corin would really rather focus on taking off his lover’s shirt instead. 

He pulls away from Din’s neck, instantly noticing the marks he’s made that have him internally preening possessively. ‘ _This person, he is mine. And I am his._ ’ 

Corin doesn’t linger long before he goes to finish his task of removing his lover’s shirt, grabbing the bottom of the shirt to pull it up and over Din’s helmet, throwing it somewhere by the ladder entrance, out of the way. Swiftly, once free of the shirt, Din’s hands come back to his hips to roughly pull him back onto his lap. 

They both moan loudly at their members grinding against each other. Corin wraps his arms loosely around his love’s neck for support as Din continues to pull him down by the bruising grip on his hips as he grinds up into it. 

Moaning out again, Corin goes along with it, chasing that build up, loving the frantic pace they’ve set, desperate for each other. 

Until it stops too soon, Din releasing a small growl as one hand lets go to grab at Corin’s tank top to fling it off of him to who knows where. The hand returns to his body caressing his ribs under his pec, caressing down passed his hip to grab hold of a bared butt cheek, the other hand not far behind on the other one. He gasps when they squeeze, rubbing and caressing them as if to cherish his firm butt, promising more. 

Wanting to do his part, Corin takes both of their members in hand and slides his hand up and down slowly to keep up the stimulation. The heat between them causing him to pant more, the hitching pants coming from under the helmet further enticing him, he continues to slowly stroke, knowing he’d need lube in order to go any fast. He leans his forehead against the helmet again, watching as their cocks pulse together under his hand’s ministrations, precum dribbling from the heads. 

So distracted is he that he doesn’t realize the hands leave his body before they’re returning with the fingers of one hand slicked up. He twitches in surprise, pausing his hand’s movements, before looking at the face in front of him, foreheads still pressed to one another. 

As always, he knows that Din is asking for permission to continue. 

He should know by now that Corin will always say yes. 

In response to the silent question, he gives him a small reassuring smile then tilts his head up to kiss the helmet at where he assumes Din’s mouth is. 

His hand continues in its strokes along their members, the other hand grabbing at the side of Din’s neck. Keeping himself loose, his pants of anticipation turn into soft groans in the back of his throat as a slick finger caresses at his entrance before carefully sliding in and out, getting deeper and deeper every time. 

Din continues with one finger like that until Corin starts letting out soft whines of frustration, hand squeezing their dicks a little harder on each stroke to show he is ready for more. Guessing he got the memo, Corin feels another finger join the first in an easy slide in as Din repeats the same steps as he did with the one finger. 

Corin can feel both of their members leaking more precum as his hand starts to slide easier on each stroke, picking up the pace to chase that high. 

Then Din starts scissoring his fingers and moving them in and out in slightly different angles until- 

A loud moan escapes his mouth as his hand freezes in its movement and his head falls to his love’s shoulder, ear pressed against Din’s neck where he can hear the rapid beat of his heart. 

Knowing that he, Corin, is affecting his lover the same way Din is affecting him causes his cock to twitch even more. He begins moving his hips in retaliation: forward into his hand, and back into Din’s. 

Letting out a weak hum, Corin licks his lips so he could whisper, “More...” 

Din hits that same spot a few more times, each time just as pleasurable as the last, before he finally slides in the third finger. Three fingers is always a bit tough at first but it’s nothing he can’t handle, especially knowing the reward. 

Once they’re fully seated, he feels a nudge at the side of his head and a squeeze on his butt cheek, which actually makes his body reflexively grind into it. It almost makes him laugh. 

Instead he just continues to grind back into the still fingers. 

“Cyar'ika.” Din’s voice sounds strained as he calls for him. 

Lifting his head to face the helmeted face, Corin can almost see his reflection in the visor, the only things standing out are his blown pupils, he can barely see the blues of his eyes. Closing said eyes, he leans into the helmet to nuzzle in his lust-drunk haze, humming in answer. 

He feels the hand on his ass move to glide up and down his thigh in a caress. Din continues in his question. “You’re okay for me to proceed?” 

Smiling in amusement, Corin takes Din’s cock in hand and starts stroking again, maintaining his grind back into those fingers, gasping every time they brush against his prostate. “Where’s the lube?” He pants out. 

Din hands him the lube, and he squeezes a decent amount on his hand before going back to stroking Din’s cock, the slide so much easier now with the lube. Corin takes advantage of that to stuck faster and in all the ways he knows gets his lover riled up. 

Sure enough, he’s almost bucked off of his lap as Din thrusts up into his hand, the jostle causing the fingers in his ass to press hard against his prostate, again. 

He barely recovers from that before the fingers are taken out and hands grip his hips, hard. Din lifts him up so Corin’s hovering over his dick, slight hesitation in his movements as if expecting Corin to still say no. 

Um.... no. 

Grabbing hold of the cock, he lowers himself down on it until the head pops past the ring of muscle. It causes him to lose his breath for a few seconds, glad that Din is still holding tightly to his hips. He can see the strain in his muscles as he holds himself back, waiting for Corin to adjust. He takes a deliberate deep breath in and slowly exhales to loosen up again before slamming himself down all the way. 

“Corin!” Din yells in surprise, and slight reprimand, as his hands tighten on his hips in a bruising grip. Corin’s got both hands trying to grip onto Din’s shoulders but they keep scratching at them instead, his breaths staggered as he tries catching his breath. 

Both waiting to adjust to the feeling, Corin hears his love mutter under his breath about his impatience. Ignoring it as he’s heard it several times before, he starts grinding down on the cock inside him, trying to hide his small winces in discomfort from Din. 

The hands on his hips ease up and start rubbing up and down his sides, encouraging the slow grind. Eventually, they pick up the pace, Din guiding his hips into harder grinds. Corin lifts himself a short distance, then slams back down on Din’s cock, letting out a low moan as it hit just right. 

They keep at this grind and thrust dance until Corin is moving hard and fast on Din’s cock, Din guiding him along as he times his thrust up just right, hitting that same spot that has Corin seeing stars behind his eyelids. 

“Hah...hah... Din...” Corin pants then whines out as he can feel himself getting close. The hands on his hips tighten in response then move down to his ass to grope his cheeks, spreading them and thrusting up harder, as if to get even deeper. A primal growl reverberates through Din’s entire being. He’s close, too. 

Taking himself in hand, Corin times his strokes to match the thrusts into his body. Overwhelmed, anchors himself by grabbing at the back of Din’s neck. His blunt nails scratch into the sensitive skin causing the other man to groan in pleasure and grind up extra hard and long at the next thrust. 

The thrust taking him by a delightful surprise, he screams out. It only takes a couple more strokes after that before he’s spilling all over their chests, slumping boneless against his lover as he feels Din give a few more hard thrusts before Corin feels him spill inside him. He shudders against Din’s sturdy chest, a small, secretive smile stretching his face. 

‘ _We are one..._ ’ 

He can feel his eyes start to droop but forces the sleepiness away as he straightens up to look at this lover. The helmet tilts to the side as if in question but Corin really know that he’s just trying to stay awake too. 

Smiling at the helmeted face, Corin rests his forehead against it, reveling in his afterglow. 

“I love you.” He murmurs gently. 

“And I, you, Cyar'ika.” Din replies in a contented tone. Corin can only imagine the smile presented on his face. “Now, get up. We need to get cleaned up. We arrive at our next planet in less than a standard hour.” 

Corin can only sigh at a moment once again ruined by his Mandalorian. 

He gets up, grimacing at the sound and feel of Din’s soft member pulling out. Stepping back from the chair, he stretches the kinks out of his body from being in such an awkward position for so long. 

Too busy trying to locate his pants, he doesn’t notice Din in his space until he feels a hand caressing his cheek. Turning toward the source, he sees the helmet staring at him, tilted again as if in question. This time, though, it feels like he is considering something. 

Brows furrowing, he’s about to express his concern when Din abruptly lets go, turns around, and heads toward the ladder to leave. 

“Go and use the bathroom first. I’ll get our weapons and supplies ready for the next planet.” He says, then jumps down to the floor below. 

Corin just continues to stare at the last spot Din stood, beyond confused. Eventually, he just shakes it off as nothing. 

“Now, where are my kriffing pants!?”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Gar nuhoyir = You sleep


End file.
